I do love having a new release to share snogs from, it’s definitely one of my favourite things!

Carrie and Flynn have a chemistry neither of them can deny, no matter how hard they try. Here’s a hot snog where passion spills over…

“Sometimes you just forget about the formalities and go with your gut,” he continues. “It’s such a visceral reaction, it’s like the brain doesn’t get involved at all.”

My heart is racing, my lips dry. Blood rushes around my body, making my extremities tingle. A gentle cool breeze tickles the back of my neck, but I can’t think. My pussy aches, my skin feels tight, and all I can hear is his breathing. I’m sure the river is tinkling over rocks, that birds are tweeting, and the wind is rustling through the leaves, but I’ve tuned all that out.

He cups my face with his big, rough hand and wipes at my cheek. The tears that had been threatening to fall had dripped down without me really paying much attention. I smile, feel it pulling against the warm cup of his hand. Then his lips are on mine, and I feel complete. My body zings with ecstasy. Shifting slightly, I press my chest to his, grip his arm to steady me. His fingers trail down from my cheek to my neck, the grip possessive but gentle.

I don’t care where I am, and I certainly don’t think about what this snog means for our friendship. Suddenly I couldn’t give a shit about friendship. I want him—no, I need him. My body craves his. Tracing my fingers down his arm I appreciate the muscle and the heft of him. He might be a wild man, but he hasn’t gone to seed. This guy is taut with muscle and might, and if I were a character in a historical romance I’d be swooning into his embrace just so he could catch me to put that strength into action.

Flynn wraps his other arm around my waist, and I’m enveloped in him. He smells of the outdoors, cut with a hint of citrus and spice from his wash and shave last night. Already there’s the slight sting of stubble against my cheek and chin as we kiss, his beard working to reassert itself, the pull of his hormones unstoppable by steel.

I don’t think I’ve breathed for hours, I’m just drinking him in. My grip on his arm slackens and slips down to his sides like silk sheets against skin. I clutch at him then sneak my hands up inside the confines of his t-shirt as his tongue presses urgently between my lips.

His skin is hot and taut, his stomach flat, his abs hard and unyielding. He flinches as I skim my hand over his hip and encounter a rough, raised line of a scar. I move over it quickly, unwilling to cause him pain or upset. I don’t know much about his life as a soldier, but I suppose the mark is something he picked up back then. He doesn’t want to think about his past, and I don’t want to push him, even though it’s obvious, even to me, that he’s running away from something. Something painful, no doubt, that he really needs to get to grips with to move on with his life. Fuck, I’m starting to sound like damn Dr. Sherrington.

I’m distracted from my inner ruminations by him stroking my side. He climbs higher, his thumb brushing over the bottom curve of my breast, and my nipple tightens almost painfully in reaction. Just the skim of a finger over t-shirt and bra amps up my arousal to the next level. What the fuck would happen if he got me naked? He growls and moves his thumb higher. He cups my breast with his whole hand, his thumb grazing over my nipple, and all thought flees my mind. I love the rumble of arousal that vibrates between our mouths. His moan is deep and sonorous, highlighted by my breathier, higher-pitched gasps. It’s a symphony of lust.

I want to feel more of him. I need to explore every inch of him. Skimming my hands over his shoulder blades and down to the very base of his back is a good start, but I want to know him even more intimately. I head ‘round the front of his body again, taking care to avoid his scar, and before I can think or take breath I slip my hand down into the waistband of his casual trousers.

Flynn stiffens. I pause for a split second, but then lust reasserts itself and I clasp at the warm, hardened flesh that I encounter. I’m a little surprised he’s not wearing underwear—lord, did I shrink those, too?—but it is a pleasant surprise. He is long and hard, showing undeniable proof that he is as turned on by this situation as I am.

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Authors, Feel free to add your snog to the list below. Just pick a kiss excerpt from one of your works (published or unpublished) and post it up on your blog. Use the Sunday Snog Banner, link back to this post then when you’ve posted it pop back here and add your URL to the list. It’s as simple as that! If you need any help at all please feel free to contact me victoria @ victoria blisse .co. uk (no spaces)